


Destination: Nowhere

by RiotKid



Series: Urban Nomads!verse [1]
Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, College Dropout, I guess???, Insomnia, M/M, Urban Nomads, shameless fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-11
Updated: 2015-07-10
Packaged: 2018-03-30 01:05:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 5,134
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3917470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RiotKid/pseuds/RiotKid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Josh has spent nearly his entire life on the road. The world isn't all that big when all it holds is a beat-up truck and some scratched CDs. He doesn't know a lot of people, but he's okay with that. Really, he is.</p><p>But Josh's world is about to get a whole lot bigger.</p><p>It's a college AU without the college, y'all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Only The Names Will Change

**Author's Note:**

> i have no clue what im doing but it looks like fun here we go

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is from Wanted Dead Or Alive by Bon Jovi. Feedback welcome. (please)

Ashley once called him an urban nomad.

As far as Josh can figure, that's the closest anyone's ever gotten to describing his lifestyle. Then again, if anyone would've gotten it, it would've been Ash. Not to say that he doesn't love the rest of his family- really, he does- but none of them ever really seem to Get It.

Ash is the only one who ever understood his need to constantly be on the move. Staying in one place too long always brought back the itch under his skin, and before he knew it, he was across state lines again; destination: nowhere.

\--. .- -.--

It usually goes something like this:

Josh pulls off the highway at whichever exit catches his eye, and seeks out construction sites. He learned early on that pay-by-day jobs were all he could commit to, even when he managed to last several months in the same city.

He sleeps in the back of his battered red pick up, a second-hand camper shell keeping him sheltered from the elements. He showers at the nearest community center, and washes his clothes at a laundromat.

When the itch gets unbearable, he leaves. Simple as that.

He fits seamlessly into each new city. It took him nearly a year to realize it was because each new city was exactly the same as the last. He doesn't mind, though. Really, he doesn't.

Every few months or so, he makes the trip back to Columbus, Ohio, to see Ash. When he visits, he stays with her and fixes anything around the house that may need it. He knows she's always disappointed when he leaves, but the itch is stronger than the guilt, and he always promises to come back.

All things considered, it's a good life. It fits him, his need to travel, and inability to commit to one place, one job, one life.

He knows he's just running away from the inevitable, but he's okay with that. Really, he is.

Then he meets Tyler.


	2. I'm So Good At Being Gone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter title is a bastardization of a line from The End Is Not The Answer by Three Days Grace. and, yes, i am the emo trash that uses lyrics for every chapter title. taking advantage of the chance i have here. anyway its 3 am good night.

Josh has been floating around Chicago for awhile now. He's decided he likes Chicago, not enough to stay forever, of course, but it has enough twists and turns to keep his mind busy, and he has friends there. If he stopped to see how long he's stayed, it would be somewhere around three months, give or take. He ran out of construction gigs within the first few weeks, but he's found plenty of seedy bars looking for contract-free, short-term hires. It's far from glamorous, but he didn't expect anything different when he embarked on this never-ending trip.

He knows by now that he's searching for something. He isn't entirely sure what it is, but he certainly hasn't found it yet.

\--. .- -.--

The Taproom smells like shitty beer, unwashed bodies, and an astounding amount of cigarette smoke. Josh's shoes stick to the floor as he flits back and forth, mixing drinks, his sticky steps perfectly in time with the bass-heavy music pouring from the staticy speakers. He knows the drill at this point. The unspoken rules of who to flirt with and whose drinks to water down. He shoots a newcomer a "be right with you", accompanied by a molasses-slow smile, and keeps moving, flipping bottles into the air as he pours.

Each bar has a slightly different vibe; the crowd and staff hitting on different wavelengths, and sometimes Josh can't handle the noise in his head on top of the noise around him. He fits at The Taproom, though. The buzz and rumble of the customers mixes with the blaring music and together they drown out the racket in his head.

Josh turns around just in time to avoid the snap of Debby's dishtowel. She pops her gum and flicks her choppy hair out of her eyes before smirking, "stop showing off and get to work, Dun."

He laughs, head thrown back and carefree, as she sashays away.

Josh likes it here. Chicago, The Taproom, the easy friendship he's developed with Debby. It feels almost right.

Almost.

He can feel the itch coming back, and Ashley's voicemails have been getting more and more harrowed as of late, so that night, after he helps Debby lock up, he hugs her, drops a kiss on the top of her head, and leaves. They both knew from the start that he couldn't stay, and that if/when he comes back, there'll be a job and a chair left open for him. He keeps telling himself that, letting the repetition numb the guilt until all he can feel is the burn at the base of his spine, the need to run, drive, get away.

So he does.

It's only six hours to Columbus and he barely needs to look at the highway signs as they flicker past like an outdated film reel. He pulls into Ashley's driveway just after ten, truck bumping over the curb and into the morning-damp grass of her lawn.

When she opens the door, they stare at each other tiredly for a moment before she sweeps him into the house.

Ash's house is closer to home than anywhere else he's been. She drags him through the front room to the kitchen, where she shoves him into a chair and busies herself with the coffeemaker.

Sliding into the seat across from him, she passes him a steaming mug of caffeine and sits back expectantly.

Their usual staring match occurs, before Josh sighs and reaches for the coffee. "It got too comfortable. There were all these people, with all their expectations, and I couldn't be a single fucking one of them, ya know? And Chicago got stale and I couldn't focus and I left. And here I am." He stares resolutely at the table, tracing decades old coffee circles.

Ash finally breaks the silence. "You know where the sheets and everything are. Get some sleep and we'll talk more later, okay?" She pats his hand, standing to place her empty mug in the sink.

He knows, logically, that she isn't angry with him, but he feels chastised, like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar. He drains the rest of his stone cold coffee and leaves it in the sink.

He knows he won't be sleeping, but he makes up the bed anyway. It'll at least give Ash some peace of mind.


	3. Beautiful And Disaffected

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> trying something new here idfk none of this is edited like it starts with me sending shit to claude but then i get bored and just start typing on here and BAM gayness. ((chapter title is from Coffee Girl by The Tragically Hip))
> 
> as always, feedback is welcome, and if you wanna tell me what you think should/is going to happen, it might. you never know.

Tyler works at the shittiest coffee shop ever.

No, really. It's like if Denny's and Starbucks had a baby. A low quality, disappointing, open-24-hours-a-day baby. But the parentage of Any Beans Necessary isn't The Problem here. The Problem, as Tyler has taken to calling it (caps and all), is that he's stuck working the graveyard shift for the second week straight. It's not that he has plans, or a normal sleep schedule, or a life, or anything. But it's the principle of the thing, okay? 

It's not even like Tyler's doing any work. He's just dozing off against the counter, one of his old mix tapes spilling softly from the decade old boom box behind the counter. Every hour or so, one of the all-nighter college students will rouse him to share a mutual look of "I am so dead inside" and get more coffee. Tyler totally gets the feeling. I mean, one semester of college? Totally the same as making it to grad school.

Anyway, he hated college. And no matter how much he complains about it, he loves Any Beans Necessary. From the shitty pun, to the one kid who's probably been in that same corner for a month straight (Tyler's scared to check on him, like, he could be _dead_ , okay, and Tyler really doesn't have time for that trauma), to the way it always inexplicably smells like cinnamon (they don't even _make_ anything with cinnamon. This isn't fuckin' Starbucks, we covered that already.)

Tyler's always been a sucker for overworked cliches, so when he got the chance to work in a real, live, hipster, probably-never-passed-a-health-inspection coffee shop, he was ecstatic. Jenna laughed at him at the time. Honestly, she would probably still be laughing at him right now, but she's sacked out on one of the second-hand coffee stained sofas across the shop from him.

Tyler yawns, joints crackling as he stretches, and crosses the shop to cover her with an age-softened blanket. He pats her clumsily on the head and checks his watch. It's only 4:15. His frustrated groan must've been louder than he intended, because Jenna mumbles blearily in her sleep and stirs a bit on the couch. Tyler sighs again and looks down at her for a long moment. All the tension drains from his wiry frame, and he settles down on the sofa, lifting Jenna's head to rest on his thigh. He cards his fingers gently through his best friend's hair and drifts off.

If someone needs him, they'll wake him up, right?


	4. We Get Colder As We Grow Older

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i bet you know what song this title is from u nerds
> 
> also OH SHIT they met and i need to sleep
> 
> and see if you can find the song ref in this chapter. trust me, there is one and it's clumsily thrown in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please tell me what you thought also everything is bound to be ooc so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> remember that if you leave a prediction/idea and i'm like "fuck. i like that." it'll probably get written in.  
> (example: WHY is josh always moving? did he kill a man? i dont know, you tell me.)  
> (((aka please talk to me idfk what im doing)))

When Tyler wakes up, it's to sunlight spilling through the dirty windows, the multitude of smudges lending a stained-glass quality to the panes. He should be working, the buzz of costumers nags at his subconscious, but he's so _warm_ under the blanket and morning light and--

Fuck. Morning.

Tyler jolts upright, panic chasing sleep from his mind in a fragment of a second.

His head whips back and forth, anxiously taking in the scene around him... But nothing's wrong. Mikey waves cheerfully at him from behind the counter. Forehead still wrinkled in confusion, Tyler makes his way over, blanket wrapped tight around his skinny shoulders.

"Hey," Mikey says, brightly, pausing in his dish drying to slide a steaming mug across the counter, into Tyler's hands. "Jenna had to go to work, but she said to text her when you got up."

Tyler groans, burying his face in his mug of cocoa. Mikey knows him best, after Jenna, of course.

Once he drains the mug and surfaces, he manages to ask, "Dude, why are you here? It's your day off."

Mikey shrugs. "Gee called me. Said you fell asleep?" He arches a perfectly pointy eyebrow. "What did we say about taking care of yourself?" 

Tyler looks suitably abashed, mumbling, "that I needed to try harder. I'm trying, Mikes, I swear." He is, really. Just... sometimes he forgets. Okay, most of the time, he forgets, but the words have been coming to him easily, as of late, with melodies already playing through his fingers and rhythms drifting off his tongue. He loves it when the music works right, when everything makes sense, it makes everything _good._ But Tyler gets so busy scribbling down the words before they can escape, that he doesn't sleep, or eat, or shower. He's gotten so much better, he just wishes his friends would stop _worrying_ all the time. He wishes he never gave them cause to worry about him.

Mikey's face softens. "If it makes a difference, I didn't send him to spy on you. He just never fuckin' leaves. He only noticed you were passed out because you snore like a freight train."

Tyler scrunches up his face, pouting as hard as he knows how, and Mikey laughs, loud and clear.

Still laughing, Mikey orders him to get cleaned up and get to work.

\--. .- -.--

Josh slams the door shut behind him, sagging against the steering wheel. People are fucking exhausting, and Ashley is no exception. He loves her, but she still tries to convince him to stay. Sometimes he still wishes he could, but. He can't.

He needs to drive. Escape. He has nowhere to go and the sides of his beloved pickup truck are pulling tighter and tighter around him.

_Breathe._

Key in ignition. Good.

_Breathe._

Seatbelt on. Click. Good.

_Breathe._

Reverse. Good.

_Breathe._

Drive. Good.

\--. .- -.--

By the time Josh has talked his body through driving the truck like a part of him again, he's halfway across town, in front of a tiny, grubby coffee shop. He sighs, guides the pickup between two white lines, and pulls the keys from the ignition. Maybe coffee will do him good, Josh reasons. Besides, no one should be driving when they can barely pull oxygen from the air.

He presses his full weight on the door to open it, nearly falling when it gives way.

The boy at the counter has eyes like melting chocolate. It's no wonder, when his smile is so warm. His name tag proclaims him to be Tyler, and Josh cringes at how well the name wraps around his tongue.

Tyler leans forward, forearms against the counter. "It's not nearly cold enough out there for you to be shaking like that. Is your heart made of ice?"

Josh is taken aback by the unexpected questioning. He stares like a fish out of water, until the boy amends his statement with a smile and a, "Sorry, dude, I was kidding." His voice drops to a whisper as he leans even closer to ask, "Anxiety attack?"

Josh nods quickly, thankful for the easy out.

"Any allergies?"

Josh shakes his head.

Tyler points him to an empty table near the back of the shop, in a quiet corner. "How about you go chill there, and I'll bring you something?" Tyler's voice is unexpectedly soothing, and Josh feels the iron grip on his lungs loosening as he nods.

The armchair he drops himself into is soft and worn, from years of use. The blanket he finds hanging on the back is in the same condition. Josh sits quietly, focusing on his breathing.

He focuses so hard on calming down, that he jumps when Tyler drops into the chair next to him. Josh accepts both the warm paper cup and apology with a shaky smile.

"So," Tyler begins. "What's your name?"

Josh feels his heartbeat speed for a different reason than before. A reason entirely composed of the smiling, blanket wrapped boy next to him.

 _Well,_ he thinks. _This cannot end well._


	5. Together We're Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this is really short&really gay and all im sorry for is the length.  
> ...and the title. message man by 21p.

Slinging a dishtowel over his shoulder and slipping into his usual seat across from Josh, Tyler smirks. "You know, you spend so much time here, a boy might start to think you like him."

Josh chokes on his coffee.

"Relax, dude, I'm just kidding." Tyler nudges Josh's arm. "Show me what you're working on, big guy."

Josh quickly switches windows, closing down his sketches of Tyler, so he can sheepishly turn his laptop in Tyler's direction. Tyler cracks up.

"You've been in here for two hours, photoshopping a bikini onto a picture of Vladimir Putin riding a bear?" Tyler collapses against the table, cackling.

Dragging his eyes away from Tyler's ~~_pretty_~~ pink face, Josh huffs. "I was _bored_ , you asshole."

"Bored? For two hours? Why didn't you just leave?" Tyler wipes tears from his face, sobering up.

Josh grimaces, turning his own shades of pink. He mumbles something indecipherable.

Tyler leans forward, forehead wrinkling in confusion. "What?"

Josh grumbles a bit, before finally saying, "I was waiting for you to stop being busy."

Tyler laughs again, short and beautiful. "It's two am, near the end of the semester. You should've known it'd take forever for me to stop being busy."

They sit quietly, smiling at each other for a minute. 

Finally, Tyler stands, sweeping Josh's lukewarm coffee remnants away from him. "Lemme get you something edible and you keep working on that lovely picture, okay?"

Smiling bashfully, Josh agrees.


	6. The Air Around Me Still Feels Like A Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so i posted it w/o rereading bc my computer was dying so i had to delete it to run back over it also i panicked a little. title from snuff by slipknot which coincidentally was playing p much the whole time i was writing this.

His first night off in months, and Tyler's skin is crawling. Jenna's asleep and no matter how many times she reassures him that it's okay, he can't bring himself to wake her up.

He buries his face in his knees, thin arms wiring his legs to his chest.

_It'll pass. It'll pass. It'll pass._

The panic will pass, but for now he's stuck scrabbling at the walls in his own head.

The national suicide hotline is still number three on his speed dial, after his mother and Jenna. No. He can't take up time someone else needs more.

Flinging his arm out, Tyler hits the volume knob on his stereo, drowning himself in the pounding bass lines and steady drums. And for a while, it almost works.

\--. .- -.--

Tyler finds himself on the roof of his apartment building, oversized hoodie pulled tight against the cold. Staring down at the drop to the empty street below, he fumbles his phone out of his hoodie's kangaroo pocket.

A sleep-deep, groggy voice answers. "Hullo?"

"... Josh?" His voice is shakier than he would've liked.

"Ty? Are you alright?" Josh's voice is shot through with panic, hardly any traces of sleep left.

"Shit, were you asleep? Sorry, I'll be okay, never mind." Fucking _idiot_. Josh never sleeps and here Tyler is, fucking up what is probably his first good sleep in a week.

"No, if it was important enough to call me at... Three am, it must be pretty fucking important."

"I," Tyler's voice dies in his throat.

"What's going on, baby?" The pet name barely registers with Tyler.

"I. I think i need help, Josh." Tyler hears panicked rustling on the other end of the line, hears Josh fall out of bed, trying to put on jeans, the buckle on the belt clattering against the floor.

"Where are you, Ty? I'll come to you." His tone is gentle, but Tyler knows he has no room to argue.

"I'm, uh. I'm on the roof. I'm not gonna jump, I don't wanna, but I keep looking down and I just--"

"I'll be there in five minutes, Ty. Step back and sit down, okay?"

Tyler does as he's told.

\--. .- -.--

Josh breaks at least seven traffic laws in the short drive to Tyler's building. He tries not to think about what the panic in his chest means, but when he answered the phone and heard Tyler's voice crack, he knew he was in way deeper than he ever meant to be.

He parks illegally and slams his way to the top floor, jimmying the lock on the roof access, just like Tyler taught him.

Josh bursts through the door to the roof, eyes already flicking back and forth to find Tyler. Josh's gaze finally lands on a jacket-wrapped bundle huddled in the corner. The wave of relief is so strong his knees nearly buckle under the force of it. Stumbling across the roof, Josh hits his knees on the concrete next to Tyler.

Cradling Tyler close against him, lets out a shaky breath. "Jesus Christ, Ty, I was so worried." He runs his fingers through the smaller man's hair. "Jesus, i thought I'd get here and you'd be gone, or hurt, or dead. God, Tyler." Josh muffles a hysterical sob in Tyler's shoulder.

Tyler curls his hand tightly around Josh's arm. "I'm okay. Everything is okay." The words shudder out of him, barely audible, and it's hard to tell which of them he's reassuring.

Ten minutes and dozens of deep breaths later, Josh pulls his friend to his feet. "Let's get you downstairs, okay?"

\--. .- -.--

Tyler falls asleep, brain blessedly silent, with Josh tucked up next to him like the world's best teddy bear.

\--. .- -.--

Josh lies awake for hours, carding his fingers through Tyler's hair, the echos of panic still coursing through his blood.

Whether he's panicking over almost losing Tyler, or getting too attached to him, Josh can't quite tell, but he suspects it's a mix.

\--. .- -.--

Josh slips out once the sun has risen, leaving a note that reads:

_Had to leave for work, call me if you need me. -josh_

And pretends he isn't terrified.


	7. With Dust In Throat I Crave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is dedicated to astro for figuring out that my page breaks say "gay" in morse code.
> 
> title from wherever i may roam by metallica

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this'll likely be the last chapter for a couple weeks bc im going to camp. i'd apologize, but it's my favorite place on earth and there's no way i could even pretend to be sorry.

Instead of going to work at the job he doesn't actually have, Josh goes back to Ash's house, sneaks into her room the way he hasn't in years. Crawling into bed next to her, he curls up as small as he can.

Ashley rolls over, blinking at him, hazily. "... the fuck?" 

"Hi, Ash," Josh says, trying for blase, despite the fact that he's woken her up like a child with a nightmare.

Pushing herself up on her elbows, Ash squints at him. "What's wrong, baby bro?"

He burrows into the pillows, pulling the blankets tight around him, before whispering, "I think I like a boy," his voice wracked with all the tragedy of a death sentence.

Ashley knuckles at her eyes, before scrubbing a hand through her hair and sighing. "What time is it, Josh?"

Josh winces, guiltily. "5:30?"

She groans, but rolls out of bed all the same, pulling a baggy hoodie over her pajamas. "Do you think you can get some sleep, or should we talk about it now?"

He peers at her plaintively from inside his blanket nest.

Tugging Josh out of his downy confines, Ash makes her way to the kitchen to start the coffeemaker.

Josh waddles into the kitchen after her, still bundled in her comforter. Ashley briefly wonders if it's living up to its name.

When he moves to help her put together breakfast, she shakes her head and nudges him toward the nearest chair.

"Let's make a deal, J-man. I'll make pancakes if you talk. Cool?"

Josh nods, sorting through everything in his head to find a starting point. "He works at this shitty little coffee shop; Any Beans Necessary, I think? Anyway, it's awful. Good food, though."

"And good people, I imagine?" Ash interrupts to ask, haphazardly measuring flour into a bowl.

Leveling a Look at her, Josh continues, as if she hadn't spoken. "I showed up halfway through a panic attack and he just kind of pointed me to a quiet corner and brought me cocoa. Didn't even ask why I was freaking out."

The skillet sizzles as Ashley ladles the first pancake onto its steaming surface.

"I went there to see him a few times. To hang out, you know? I haven't gotten to be close to someone in forever, and he was, just so _nice_ and unassuming and I forgot about leaving for a while."

Ash, thankfully, doesn't point out that it's his own damn fault that he can't get close to anyone, that he has to leave.

"But last night he called me, right? Called me from the fucking roof and I was _scared_ , Ash, so scared." Josh chokes on the lump in his throat, voice cracking. "And I shouldn't've been so scared and he shouldn't've trusted me that much and, god, Ash, what if he'd jumped? What if he _died_ , Ash? What, what if--"

Ash abandons the pancakes to cross the kitchen and wrap her arms around her brother. She holds him as he shakes through the worst of the sobs, lets him tire himself out, before sliding him a plate of pancakes and mug of coffee. "Get some food in you, before you do anything else."

They eat silently, Ash picking at the remains of her pancake carcass.

Finally, she stands. Josh freezes, looking for all the world like cornered prey. Pointing at him, she says, "You. Are going to finish eating and shower. Then, you're going to talk to this boy of yours. I'm sick and tired of you making yourself stay miserable. You like this boy, you give this a shot. Let yourself have _something_ you want, for once."

Speech complete, Ashley turns on her heel and leaves, hoodie billowing behind her like a cape. The whole princess thing totally suits her, as reluctant he is to admit it.

Looking back down at his plate, Josh notes that his appetite has vanished. _Fuck,_ he thinks. _I am so fucked._

\--. .- -.--

When Tyler wakes up, he feels cold all over, like someone snuck in during the night and turned his bones to ice. It was like Josh filled a hole Tyler had never noticed before, and now that he was gone, Tyler'd been ripped wide open.

The note doesn't do much to reassure him. Josh doesn't have a job, but, then again, if Tyler'd been woken up in the middle of the night by some unstable kid he barely knew, he'd probably lie too. Lie and run away.

Despite the anchor chained in his chest, Tyler scrapes himself together, and drags his tired body to work.

\--. .- -.--

Behind the counter, he's a mess. He manages to screw up every third drink, and his hands are shaking so hard that he spills someone's coffee as he tries to hand it to them, not once, but _twice_.

Mikey finds him in the backroom, tossing back a couple Advil as if they were tic tacs. "Dude, you okay? Not quite on your A-game today."

Tyler groans, letting himself slide down the wall to the floor, head in hands. "There was this guy, right? And I really liked him and I thought he liked me, but last night i got really bad, okay?"

He registers Mikey's sharp intake of breath, but pushes forward. "And I couldn't think of anyone to call, so I called him. And he showed up and held me and calmed me down and got me to sleep, but this morning I woke up and he was gone. Like, I know I'm fucked up, but would it kill him to stick around a while?"

Tyler rubs his hands over his face, sighing.

After a moment Mikey breaks the silence. "Ty? You stay back here a bit, okay? I can handle the shop, and if you feel up to it, you can come out and work the register. Sound good?"

Tyler nods, forehead resting on his knees. Maybe he'll nap. There's a cot in the corner of the room, and the sheets shouldn't be _too_ gross.

\--. .- -.--

Tyler is shaken out of his uneasy sleep by a gentle hand and familiar voice. When his eyes flicker open, he's met with a steady, warm gaze.

"Hey, Ty? Can we go for a drive? I kinda need to talk to you."

Slowly, against his instincts, Tyler nods, and Josh smiles like the sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> perhaps you'd like to comment? predictions and ideas are always welcome.


	8. Feel Alright (Far From Home)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> so i kinda lied sooooo. i tried not to write this chapter but i HAD to, u feel.
> 
> im riotkidofficial on tumblr so follow me if you want to suffer or watch me suffer.
> 
> im not apologizing for this chapter but i AM otw 2 the Urgent Care to have them fix my nose. its a little broke bc i punched myself for writing this. (im kidding, my nose is unharmed)
> 
> (title is from Tension be Avenged Sevenfold)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chance of tears increases at least 400% if you listen to Mayday Parade and No Phun Intended while you read this.

Tyler isn't entirely sure what he expected. He knew, vaguely, that Josh spent a lot of time on the road, living in his car. Somehow, that didn't conjure up anything remotely similar to what Tyler was now looking at.

The dented red pickup truck is kept surprisingly tidy, clothes all bundled in a small red duffle bag, behind the passenger seat, and the fast food detritus Tyler anticipated is completely absent.

Josh anxiously scuffs his converse against the pavement. "So, uh. This is it. Home sweet home." 

Tyler stares back at him. And, okay, Josh knows his lifestyle isn't really healthy, and no one should live in a tiny metal box, especially if they have other options, but he's never felt ashamed or self-conscious of his choices. That is, until Tyler looked at him as if his truck was the single most upsetting thing he'd ever seen.

After a few seconds of silence, Tyler blurts, "where do you _sleep_ ," before turning bright red and trying to stammer out an apology.

Josh waves his attempts away. It's a good question; the backseat is cramped, and half-filled with his small accumulation of worldly possessions. Gesturing for Tyler to follow him, Josh rounds the vehicle to open the back.

The back of the truck had been converted into a simple, cozy living space. A rumpled bed stretches beneath the window of the cab, blankets piled messily near the foot. Tyler's no expert on trucks or anything, (seriously, he's lived in Columbus his whole life, he never needed to be one) but he can tell Josh is too tall for a bed that size. Next to the bed, sprawls an untidy mass of books, all well-worn and loved. He wonders, idly, if Josh has them memorized yet. A tangle of chargers rest amid the books, some threaded through into the cab, likely to connect to the dash. In the corner, hidden so he nearly misses, is a stuffed bear, scuffed and dirty, button eyes still smiling.

Tyler's heart aches. He turns to Josh, noticing for the first time how nervous his friend is. Like being struck by lightning, Tyler realizes how significant this is. This is Josh's home, a place he's never allowed anyone else, the only constant in his life. Pulling Josh into a hug, Tyler whispers, "It's beautiful."

The tension drains from Josh's body, and he allows himself to hug back, to hold Tyler tight against him. Josh imagines that _this_ is what coming home feels like.

\--. .- -.--

Josh lets Tyler DJ, laughing freely when Tyler starts off with Mr. Brightside. Neither of them miss a line.

\--. .- -.--

Tyler watches Josh out of the corner of his eye. Secretly, he thinks Josh looks most beautiful like this, smiling uninhibitedly, drumming out absentminded beats on the steering wheel to whatever's playing.

When Josh catches him looking, he smiles, melting Tyler's heart even further.

Fucking hell, he's so gone for this boy.

\--. .- -.--

Josh like the way Tyler looks, he admits it. The boy is pretty, his mischievous smiles, the way he talks with his hands, everything.

But all that aside, Tyler looks perfect sitting shotgun in Josh's truck, his hair tousled by the wind, blowing through open windows, he looks like he belongs there, like that's where he was supposed to be all along.

\--. .- -.--

Everything was going pretty smoothly, Tyler thought. Then, of course, he had to fuck it up. He didn't mean to, but his finger slips on the click-wheel, and he ends up playing one of him own tracks. It startles him so bad that he drops his iPod, his own voice pouring from the speakers before he can stop it.

When he finally recaptures his iPod, he tries to apologize, fiddling to change it. His hands are stilled unexpectedly by one of Josh's.

"No, let it play. I wanna hear you," Josh says, gently.

Tyler stops, watching Josh's reactions.

While his face remains mostly passive, his fingers twine around Tyler's, twitching when the recording admits, "there's a word I've said more than any other word, and that word is sorry. Sorry."

As it crescendos, Josh seems to find the exit he's been searching for, pulling off the highway and turning into a near-invisible road. Trees surround the truck as it rolls to a stop. Tyler hardly has time to react; as the words, "tomorrow's sure to come" hang in the air, Josh launches himself across the stick shift to press his mouth to Tyler's.

It's not the best kiss in history. Tyler is frozen in shock, and Josh is shaking, pressing panicked, burning kisses all over Tyler's face, like he could push everything he's feeling into Tyler's skin. When Josh tries to pull away, Tyler curls a hand around his jaw, guiding Josh back to his mouth.

There aren't fireworks, but it's warm and gentle, and neither of them want to leave.

When they finally part, blushing, Josh takes a deep breath. "I've never done this before. Be patient with me, okay?"

Tyler presses another smiling kiss to Josh's lips, before replying.

"I'll always be patient with you, Joshua Dun. Always."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may or may not have some tears going on myself. you can't prove anything.


End file.
